


The Jewel of Jotunheim

by Nikolaus_Chaser



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Dark Magic, F/M, First Kiss, Intersex Loki (Marvel), Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Jotunn | Frost Giant, Little Mermaid Elements, M/M, Slow Burn, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2019-06-18 00:30:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15473508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikolaus_Chaser/pseuds/Nikolaus_Chaser
Summary: All that Loki wants is to see the world beyond Jotunheim.  When his father denies him, Loki turns to the witch Angrboda to help him grant his wish.





	1. Chapter 1

Loki’s most prized possessions, he hides away.

A cloak of ebony black falcon feathers. A Gem of Infinite Sunshine, so hot to the touch that Loki burns his fingers to hold it.   A hunting horn, years ago lost on the outskirts of Alfheim and then found one day by a young and adventurous Loki, who has blown into it many times since in hope of summoning the Wild Dogs he has read so many stories about.  It is too far from home, here in Jotunheim, for its magic to do its work. Iron gloves, and a full set of Asgardian War Clothes  he bought at a market stall on  Útgarðar.   A golden apple of Idun’s, procured from the black market trader  Thjazi in exchange for one of Loki’s finest diadems and a sizeable pouch of silver coins. 

All of these things, Loki has spent his life collecting.  He has cherished them, hidden then away from his father Laufey and his brothers Helbindi and  Býleistr, who do not understand his fascination with the Aesir.  They’d scorn him for keeping these trinkets, call him a defector or worse: a baby.  Because dreams like the ones that Loki’s been having are only had by traitors or children.

Ever since he was in his early 100s, Loki has dreamt of making a home for himself on Asgard.  He’s read all the books that the royal library has to offer on life in Asgard. It’s not much, but it is enough to make Loki want to know more.  More about the heat and the sunshine, the green valleys and rushing waters that are so different from the unyielding ice and rock of Jotunheimr. About the Gods and men who live there, their pale skin and light eyes and golden hair that Loki finds so beautiful.

Loki is in his rooms, examining one of his new apples.  He sniffs it curiously, considering a bite. It seems to be pure gold.  Won’t the metal break his teeth when he tries to bite it? There is a loud knock on his door, and Loki stuffs the fruit into his robe’s front pocket.

“Enter.”

Sigyn steps inside, swinging the door shut behind herself.  Loki deflates, relaxing again amongst the many soft pillows on his bed.  He pulls the apple from his pocket, turning it over in his hands again and again.

“What is that?” Sigyn asks, settling onto the bed beside Loki and leaning over his shoulder to spy on his latest prize.  She reaches out with long fingers to touch it, her dark blue skin standing out against the golden flesh of the apple.

“An apple from the gardens of Idun.  Or so Thjazi says,” Loki sighs, dropping the fruit onto his bed, disinterested.  He pushes himself up and walks over to the window, looking out at the icy tundra beyond the castle walls.  Sigyn picks the apple up after him, all of her attention consumed by the shiny, magical fruit.

“Well, are you going to eat it?  Can I have some?”

It’s begun to snow outside, and Loki looks out the window disdainfully.  He turns back to Sigyn and sighs. “Well, sure. Go ahead and take a bite.  Eat the whole thing. It doesn’t matter anyway,” he says. He looks down at his feet, bare on the cold stone floor, and a few strands of loose black hair fall into his sad face.  Sigyn stands and walks over to him, cupping his cheeks in her palms.

“What’s wrong?”

“I do not belong here, Sigyn,” Loki says bitterly, a sneer curling on his lips.  “My father does not understand why I am upset. He does not understand  _ me _ .  But then, why would he?  He’s not a worthless runt, after all.”

“Loki!” Sigyn gasps, and whacks him hard in the chest.  Loki backs away from her and sits down on his windowsill, staring outside.  The snow is falling in droves now, turning into a blizzard. It’s the cold season and it snows almost every day, now.  “You shouldn’t talk about yourself like that.”

“It’s true.  I’m not a normal Jotunn.  And don’t I deserve to find a place where I  _ do  _ belong?  When is it my turn?... Wouldn’t I love to explore the world outside of Jotunheimr.  I wish I could be a part of… that world,” he sighs. Sigyn sits down beside him, pushes a strand of his long raven hair from his face.  His red eyes flicker over her face, assessing her shrewdly. She offers him a plaintive smile, and softly speaks down to him.

“You’re speaking of Asgard, aren’t you?”

His silence is his answer, and Sigyn reaches out to take one of his hands in her own.  She folds his hand into hers and she doesn’t let go, even when he digs his black-painted fingernails into her palms and bears his teeth to her.

“You’ve been looking through your looking glass, haven’t you?”

“That is what it’s meant for,” Loki spits back at her.  Sigyn sighs.

“You’ve been spying on that Aesir Prince again, haven’t you?  The one you are in love with,” she says. Her tone is far from judgemental, but Loki’s cheeks turn indigo besides.  He whines, childlike, and Sigyn laughs and elbows him in his side. “You have! And that’s why you’re feeling so restless.  You shouldn’t be using that glass, Loki. If your father ever found out--”

”It was a gift,” Loki snaps, “And I’ll use it as I please.  What my father does not know will not hurt him.”

“Well it might hurt you.  That glass was a gift from Angrboða.  I do not trust that witch, Loki, and neither should you!”

“I do not,” Loki says dismissively.  Sigyn looks at him worriedly, but does not pursue the conversation any further.

“You should speak to Laufey again,” she says instead.  “Ask him to send you there for a diplomatic cause,” she argues.  Loki sneers at her and shakes his head. “The last time you beseeched your father was decades ago.  His feud with Odin was still fresh in his mind. It has been many years since the last time that Jotunheim fought with Asgard.  Perhaps his heart will have changed by now.”

“He will never allow me to go,” Loki spits angrily.  “Even if he were to entertain the idea of diplomacy with the Aesir, he would never allow a runt to be the representative for his people.”

“You are a Prince, Loki.  Laufey’s son. You are more than a runt.”

Loki scowls.  “Not to my father,” he says.  He looks outside again, wistfully.  He can see nothing but white beyond the window panes.  But beyond the snowy hills and mountain peaks, Loki knows that there is more  A whole new world that he knows he must explore. “Perhaps I can reason with him, after all.  You are right about the war, Sigyn. It was a very long time ago.”

Sigyn smiles smugly, and then she hops up and goes back to Loki’s bed.  She picks up the golden apple, turns it over in her hands a few times and then holds it out to her friend.  “Will you split it with me? It smells delicious.” She brings it to her lips, and inhales. Loki’s lips turn up in a tentative smile and he swings his legs off of the windowsill, padding towards Sigyn and the apple.

“That fruit cost me more than your life is worth,” Loki says, snatching the golden fruit from her hands and polishing it against his robes.  “And you want me to share it with you?” he grins. Sigyn laughs and kicks his shin.

“Of course.  I’m your best friend, after all.”

Loki smiles.  He holds the apple out to Sigyn.  “You can have the first bite, darling.”  She reaches out to take it and laughs gleefully as she takes a generous bite from the fruit, down to the core.  She passes it back to Loki and they devour it together, lying on the floor of Loki’s bedroom as Loki daydreams of what Asgard will be like when he finally makes it there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was binge listening to Disney music the other day, and suddenly this idea for a Little Mermaid Loki fic popped into my mind. Updates will be coming soon, so bookmark this fic! And please COMMENT and SHARE. I live for your feedback.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki appeals to his father, Laufey.

Loki polishes his looking glass with the sleeve of his robe and stares into the magical mirror.  The surface ripples, and on the other side an image comes into focus. An Aesir male jousts with a female warrior, in a dirt ring surrounded by a crowd of onlookers.  She is skilled, and she lands a few crucial hits, but the youth is strong and he fights with brute force. His muscles ripple as he wields his weapon.

Loki winces when the female warrior strikes him in the chest and he goes flying, landing face first in the dirt.  And then suddenly, when he stands his eyes are glowing blue and there is static dancing at his fingertips. He reaches out his hand and his weapon flies into his hand, like magic, and he advances back on the warrior.

They continue to spar, and Loki watches in wonderment.  This man must be a master of Seidr, or some kind of God.  Loki’s heart pounds, sweat beading on his neck. His breaches feel… oddly tight, as he watches this Aesir fighting so fiercely.  His breathing picks up, and he reaches down with shaking hands to press his palm to his groin, feeling himself where he’s growing hard.

“Loki!” Býleistr barges into his room and Loki throws the mirror to the other side of the room, and stuff his hands into his pockets.  The mirror slides underneath his vanity, and Loki glowers at his brother, his bare chest still rising and falling with every harsh breath he takes.  His brother looks at him oddly. “Father is calling for your presence in the throne room. He says you wanted to speak to him.”

“Yes,” Loki says breathlessly, and he stands up and runs his fingers through his long hair.  “Do I look presentable?”

“Sure,” Býleistr says, and he reaches out to fix Loki’s headdress, which has gone crooked after his time lying down.  “A little flushed. Are you coming down with something, brother?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Loki mumbles, and he follows his brother down the hallway, towards his father’s throne room.  

He rarely comes to this part of the castle.  Mostly he spends his time inside of the library and in his chambers, and attending Seidr lessons with Angrboða.  His father prefers it that way, anyway. Though he insists that he cares for Loki as equally as he does his two other sons, he rarely has patience for Loki’s presence at the Counsel.  His mere presence only serves as a reminder of Laufey’s failure of virility.  _ Ergi _ , Loki has heard the word whispered about himself since his youth.  And while Loki is no stranger to shame, he knows his father is not accustomed to the feeling.

So Loki avoids the throne room like the plague.  He sees his father at mealtimes and at the occasional celebration, though Loki tends to avoid those as well.  And for that his father is grateful, and he spoils him in return. Loki isn’t fond of the arrangement, but it works for them and he doesn’t complain.  He gets a lot of jewelry out of the deal, anyway.

He enters the throne room with his head held high, his cloak billowing behind him. He walks on light footsteps towards the throne at the front of the room, where King Laufey sits in all of his glory.  Loki’s father is old and wrinkled, but handsome nonetheless. He is a stern man, and it shows in the way he looks at his runt son, red eyes curious as they flick over his form. Loki bows and takes to one knee, his leather pants stretching around his strong thighs.  The golden necklaces around his neck jingle against his bare chest, and he pushes his cloak out of the way and looks up at his father.

“Your Majesty,” he says courteously.  Laufey hums.

“Loki, my son,” he says.  “Stand, darling.” Loki stands, his hands clasped behind his back.  He tilts his chin up, red eyes glowing as he looks up at his father.  Suddenly his chest tightens and he feels his palms begin to sweat. Laufey tilts his head, and the way that he gazes at Loki makes him feel as though he’s peering into his brain, reading all of his thoughts.  He swallows.

“Father, I’ve come to request a private audience.  I--,” he pauses and looks towards his father’s right hand side, where Helbindi is seated.  He swallows. “I have a request, the matter of which is… private.”

Laufey frowns with a thoughtful expression, and Loki fears he will deny the request.  If Helbindi is present to hear his plea, there is no doubt that his brother will rail against the notion.  Hel, even Býleistr would probably go against him. His only chance at success, is if he has his father’s complete and isolated attention.  

His father surprises him when he raises his hand and waves, effectively clearing the room of all other presence.  Helbindi looks annoyed, but even he follows the rest of the Counsel from the throne room. And then he and Laufey are alone, and Loki begins to sweat again. 

“Well, we are alone.  Speak your request,” Laufey says.  Loki nods once, curt, and begins to pace as he speaks.

“Father, I would ask that you reconsider a request I made some decades ago.  I was just a boy then, and you told me as much. But I am of age now, and I still think about it nearly every day.  I want to go to Asgard. I want to live amongst the Aesir and see what they are like. Just for a short time, you know, this wouldn’t be a permanent thing…”

Laufey frowns.  “Loki…,” he sighs, and shakes his head.  “I do not understand your obsession with those brutish creatures.  Odin is a ruthless, bloodthirsty tyrant. I cannot allow you to go to a land where that monster rules.”

“Father, they're not barbarians!  They are--” his voice cracks when an image pops into his mind of his Aesir’s sweat covered body, slick muscles rippling as he violently overtook his opponent in the arena, crying out his victory and throwing his saber to the ground in triumph.  He pauses, and clears his throat. “They are good. We are as different from them as Vargr and Jackal! That is to say-- not different at all. Don’t allow an age-old feud to spoil what could be a fortuitous alliance of our peoples.”

**“** They're dangerous,” Laufey growls.  “Do you think I want to see my youngest son, my most beautiful child, taken and  _ ravaged _ by some hair-brained Aes? No!”

Loki’s cheeks darken to an unflattering shade of indigo.  He bears his teeth in anger. “I am nearly twelve-hundred years old-- I'm not a child anymore!  You--”

“Don't you take that tone of voice with me, Loki. As long as you live under the roof of my palace, you'll obey my rules!”

Loki releases a frustrated growl.  “But if you would just listen--”

“I have listened enough,” Laufey answers, his hand held up to silence Loki’s plea.  “I heard your request two hundred years ago, and I heard it now. Don’t think that I have not considered an alliance with the Aesir before.  But it is too much to risk sending you there, dear Loki. The Aesir cannot be trusted,” he says. Then he sighs, and looks at his son plaintively.  “Put this out of your mind, my son. Jotunheimr is beautiful in this season. Perhaps you should take your pet Bilgesnipe for a walk in the snow, that will lift your spirits.”

Loki’s gaze shifts away from his father’s face, red eyes looking to the walls of the throne room with disdain.  His ancestors gaze down at him stoically from their places in portraits high on the walls. Would they reprimand him as his father does now?  Would they tell him no, because they thought him too dainty to survive on his own in the world outside? His gaze shifts back to his father, and he gives a curt nod.

“Yes, I think I will do that.  Thank you for hearing my plea, father.”

Laufey nods.  “You are welcome.  You may send Helbindi back in here on your way out,” he says, and dismisses Loki with a wave,  He turns around, scowling as he stomps from the room. He grunts to his brother on his way out that their father wants to see him, and then he is off to the stables to spend some time with Bilgy.  It has been a while since he took her out, after all, and he could use a ride to clear his head.

Helbindi enters the throne room with a sense of purpose.  Standing at nearly 16 feet, he knows his place at the right hand of his father.  One day soon will find his coronation as the new King of Jotunheim. When that day comes, he will happily do what his father has been afraid to for many years, and reignite the war between the Aesir and Jotunn. And this time, he intends to win.

“What did little Loki want from you, father?” Helbindi asks, bowing to his King before he resumes his seat beside Laufey’s throne.  His father rubs at his temples, obviously troubled. Helbindi can only imagine what silliness Loki has brought attention to this time.  Was one of his dresses not cut from the right fabric? Or did he get tangled up in another illicit affair with a chambermaid, and need the whole mess swept under the rug for him?  Loki has become a witty and silver tongued young man in the last few centuries, but he is still fresh out of his youth and prone to mischief. Helbindi remembers the days when his brother was just a toddler, making messes of the palace halls and wreaking havoc every place he went.

“It was a private matter.  But I think that Loki is in need of supervision.  He is going through a hard time. He needs somebody to watch after him, make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble.”

Helbindi nods.  “I could not agree with you more, father.”

“Good,” Laufey nods.  “So you will watch over little Loki, then.”

Helbindi coughs, “Wait, what?”

“He’s gone for a ride on his Bilgesnipe, now.  I’m sure that if you run, you can catch him,” Laufey says, and he waits.  When Helbindi doesn’t make a move to leave, Laufey waves his hands at in a brushing motion, to shoo him towards the door.  “Well, get on with it. We wouldn’t want your brother getting into any trouble now…” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helbindi discovers Loki's collection. Loki enters the Bifrost.

Loki journeys to the outskirts of Gastropnir, where he pays a trader in silver coins for a recently recovered Aesir artifact.  “It is called a Crossing Ring,” the trader tells him. “He who wears it has then the capability to contact others who bear the same ring.”

“And who else bears this ring?”

The trader shrugs.  “I don’t know, I found it on a corpse in the Glaesisveillr Battlefields.  It’s a hundred years old at least.”

Loki regards the trader with shifty eyes, examining the ring.  He turns it over and over in his hands, and slips it onto his middle finger.  It fits perfectly. “I shouldn’t have to pay you fifty coin for this ring. You can’t even offer me proof of authenticity, without another ring to pair it with.”

“It’s pure gold!”

“So?  I have a hundred gold rings just like it at home,” he slides the ring off his finger and drops it into the trader’s hand.  “I am not interested,” he says with finality. The man huffs, groans softly, then chases after the Prince. 

“Wait!  Here,” he says, and from his pocket he produces a second ring, identical to the first.  “I found two. I was intending to keep one for my own purposes… I am a bit of a collector myself, you know,” the trader offers a nervous chuckle.  Loki does not appear amused by, or even mildly interested in the conversation. “They are authentic.”

“So you’ve said,” he drawls.  The trader’s eyes flicker over Loki’s face, and he clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth.

“I can lower the price to 85 coin, each.  But that is as low as I will go for these!  They are precious.”

“Fine,” Loki agrees after some consideration.  He thrusts his coin pouch into the trader’s hands,and greedily snatches the rings away from him.  He thanks him, and then he mounts his Bilgesnipe and heads back towards the capitol. He doesn’t even notice his brother tailing him all the way to Sigyn’s house, and then off to the Vimur River to the place where he kept his collection of Aesir artifacts.

Loki and Sigyn are lying on the floor, chatting amongst themselves about the latest trends in Jotunn fashion when Helbindi enters the cave.  Loki immediately springs to his feet, a blast of purple Seidr shooting from his fingertips. It knocks his brother onto his back, and Helbindi cries out, body shaking in pain.

“Loki, what the Hel!”

“Helbindi!” Loki shouts, and rushes to his brother’s side.  Helbindi sweeps him to the side and stands with a grunt, glaring at his brother with dark red eyes.  “What are you doing here?” he hisses. Helbindi scoffs.

“I could say the same to you, little brother,” he sneers.  He gestures to the cave around them, the walls covered in Aesir artifacts and portraits he’s collected over the centuries.  He reaches out and grabs a golden apple off of a shelf, sniffing at the ripe flesh. His face twists in an expression of disgust.  “Are you mad, Loki? What is all this-- this--”

“It’s my collection, Helbindi,” Loki snaps. “ And it is none of your business, either.  Why are you even here? How did you find--”

“He must have been following us,” Sigyn says, crossing her long arms over her chest.  “I told you that I heard something when we were crossing the river.”

“Yes, but  _ why _ were you following us?  Hmm?” Loki asks, and he reaches out to pluck the apple from Helbindi’s grubby fingers.  Sigyn snatches it from him and takes a generous bite, crunching loudly on the delicious fruit as Helbindi looks on in distaste.

“Forget it,” Helbindi snarls.  “If father ever knew about this place, he would have your head!”

“Oh, and wouldn’t you like that?” Loki snarls sarcastically, bearing his teeth to his brother.  Sigyn reaches out to touch his arm, trying to calm him.

“Please don’t tell Laufey,” she asks Helbindi.  “It’s only a harmless collection.”

“Harmless? It’s traitorous!” Helbindi roars.  He picks up one of the treasures-- Loki’s favorite hunting horn-- and smashes it against the rocky floor.  Loki screams, and blue ice shards fly from his fingertips and pierce the skin of Helbindi’s chest. The giant snarls and tears the daggers from his flesh, tossing them to the floor and pointing at Loki.  “Do not give me a reason to hurt you, runt! I am telling father about this place. I will let him handle you personally.”

Helbindi storms from the cave, mounting his own Bilgesnipe and tearing off towards the palace.  Loki collapses onto the floor, hair falling into his face. He stares at his hands in his lap forlornly, and idly twirls the brand new ring he wears upon his finger.

“I should have known my father would not allow me to go freely after our conversation,” he says, and then he scowls, angrily kicking at the dirt on the floor.  “Why does he treat me like I am still a child? I am a grown man, I should be allowed to make my own choices!”

“He will never understand, Loki,” SIgyn agrees with a sigh, and sits down in the dirt beside her best friend.  “Oh, how I hate that brother of yours.”

Loki huffs.  “Oh, really? I saw you batting your eyelashes at him just the other day, don’t think I am blind…”

“Ew, no.  Now, if we were talking about  _ Býleistr,  _ that may be a different story…”

“Byl?” Loki scoffs.  “Oh, that’s disgusting.  That’s my brother you’re talking about, Sigyn!”

“He’s handsome!” Sigyn defends.  Loki’s nose wrinkles.

“He drools in his sleep, and when he’s awake too,” he says. He grunts when Sigyn elbows him in his side.

“Hey, do you hear that?” she asks suddenly.  Loki rolls his eyes at her.

“What? Do I hear your heart pounding to the beat of a love drum for my disgusting older brother?”

“No, you idiot.  Don’t you hear talking?  Something…,” she reaches out, and grabs Loki’s hand.  Faintly, Loki can hear it now. From the Crossing Ring on his finger he hears a voice, calling for help.  It’s crackling, fading in and out, but it is distinctly a distress call. Loki’s heart leaps into his throat.

“It’s an Aesir,” he breathes, voice full of wonder.  “Something… something is wrong. Don’t you hear them?  They’re calling for help…”

“What could we do?” Sigyn asks.  Loki frowns thoughtfully, and then springs to his feet. He grabs Sigyn by the hand.

“Come on!  We’ll go to the old Bifrost portal,” he says.  They race towards the cave opening, where their Bilgesnipes are tethered.

“That has been abandoned for centuries, Loki!”

“Yes, but Angrboða has been teaching me some new spellwork.  I believe that I can reopen the portal. Come on,” he squeezes Bilgy’s flank with his thighs, and the beast roars and charges ahead.  Loki guides the creature for miles, until he and Sigyn are at the Bifrost. From his pocket, Loki produces a treat and feeds it to his pet, who snorts and gnashes her teeth in his face in an affectionate display.

“Stay here,” he orders her, and then looks to Sigyn.  “You as well, Sigyn,” he says, and winces at the hurt expression on her face.  “I won’t have enough power to keep the Bifrost open long enough for two people.  You’ll have to stay here and keep a lookout for my father and Helbindi.”

Sigyn chews her lips for a moment, and then nods.  A loud cry echoes from Loki’s ring, a man shouting for help.  The connection between the two worlds is stronger at this point, and for that, the voice is louder.  Loki clenches his fists, determined, and turns to face the portal door. With one hand outstretched, he concentrates all of his energy on opening the portal to the bridge.  Gradually, the blue light in his palm grows brighter and brighter, and suddenly a tear opens in reality, and before them both stands a rainbow bridge that was not there before.  Loki takes a deep breath and lets his arm drops back to his side, and he takes a tentative step onto the bridge.

“Don’t fall, Loki,” Sigyn orders.  Loki nods grimly, and takes another tentative step onto the bridge.  And then suddenly it winks closed with him inside, and he’s sliding through space and time at the speed of light. Loki is on his way to Asgard. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki encounters the Aesir for the first time.

He crash lands in a field full of green clover, the sun beating hard on his head.  He turns his head back and forth, looking around at the strange land he’s been delivered into.  He takes a deep breath and lets the warm air fill his lungs. He blinks in the harsh sunlight and gradually stands, dusting his clothes off from the dirt he’d fallen into.

A bee buzzes past his ear, and Loki swats at it.  It’s annoying. Loki never read anything about bees in his books about Asgard.  It keeps buzzing around his head and Loki’s attention is so focused on the noisy insect pestering him that he barely notices it when a Vargr Wolf goes barreling past him, chasing an Aesir who’s screaming at the top of his lungs.

“THOR! Thor, do something!” the man screams, his feet pounding against the grass and kicking up tufts as he goes.  The Vargr roars, gaining on him. Loki’s fingers tingle as he calls on his Seidr, ready to blast the beast to Hel. He raises his arms in front of him, but before he can send the blast another Aesir-- larger, with rippling muscles and flowing blonde hair-- comes sailing from the sky and lands upon the great wolf’s back.  He wields a hammer in his right arm, and he slams it into the back of the beast’s neck.

The Vargr spins around, giving up his chase of the first man in favor of attacking the Aes upon his back.  It bucks and kicks the man off of his back, throwing him to the ground and snapping his jaws in the man’s face.  With a vicious snarl it knocks the man down and pins him with a large paw, its nails digging into his chest.

“Volstagg!” the Aesir screams.  “Stop running and come help me you son of a--” he’s silenced by the snapping jaws of the Vargr Wolf, who takes his arm into its jaw and crunches down violently.  He screams, twisting in the jaws of the beast as it bites into his flesh with an audible crunch. He drops his hammer and goes still. 

Loki rushes forward and tires to pick up the hammer.  It’s heavier than any weapon he’s ever wielded, and he can’t budge it.  Though he’s certainly not a warrior by any means in Jotunheim, he’s always considered himself strong, at least strong enough to lift a silly hammer.  This one must be enchanted, because it will not move in Loki’s grip.

He gives up on the hammer and spins to face the Vargr head-on.  He whistles, distracting it from the Aes in its jaw. The wolf drops the Aesir’s body onto the ground, where he stays still.  Loki hopes he isn’t dead.

“Come and get it,” Loki mutters, and blue Seidr flashes in his palms, attracting the monster’s attention.  It snarls at him, teeth bared, and then releases a loud, visceral roar as it charges at Loki head first, it’s jaw open.  Loki throws his hands up in front of himself and shoots off a blast of purple Seidr. The Vargr is slammed backwards, landing on the floor with a pained whine and an even louder snarl.  It stands again on shaky legs. 

Loki takes a deep breath, trying to steady his pulse, and throws another blast of Seidr at the beast’s chest.  He’s fought Vargr before in Jotunheimr, but never one this large. The blast knocks it down again, and this time the wolf doesn’t have time to get up before Loki strikes again.  He produces two long, ice daggers from thin air and throws them at it’s chest, letting the blades pierce its chest. It shrieks, a final roar before it collapses into the dirt, motionless and still.  Dead.

Loki’s panting.  He turns around and rushes to the side of the Aes, who has not moved since the Vargr dropped him from its mouth.  He kneels down, touching his chest as it rises and falls in shallow breaths. He is bleeding very much, his arm nearly torn off by the jaws of the beast, his chest shredded up by its claws.  Loki’s long, blue fingers gently trace the wounds on the Aesir’s golden skin.

He calls on his Seidr, pulses of blue and green healing magic traveling from the tips of his fingers to the wounds on the Aesir’s skin.  The flesh knits itself back together slowly, and the man shifts, his eyelids fluttering open. He stares at Loki, his light eyes glazed over and confused.

“You’re a Frost Giant,” he whispers.  His voice is hoarse. Loki opens his palm against the Aesir’s chest and focuses another pulse of magic on the cuts there.  The Aesir hisses and closes his eyes again, tossing his head to the side. “Hurts…”

“Don’t move, Aes,” he says gently, and drags a single black fingernails over the edges of the wound on his bare chest.  It’s healed now, though there will most likely be a scar. “You must rest,” he says. The Aesir does not respond, and Loki looks back to his face and sees that he has gone unconconscious.  With a tentative hand, Loki reaches out and cups his face. His skin is pale, white, his hair golden and long. He is beautiful. Loki strokes a thumb over the Aes’s rosy cheek, he feels his chest tighten with desire.

In his peripheral vision, Loki sees movement.  The warrior from before is returning, except now he has more Aesir with him.  Loki may be curious, but he is not stupid. He knows that if those warriors arrive to find their friend unconscious, with him-- a Frost Giant-- he will not return to Jotunheimr alive.

In a rush, he stands and raises his arms.  His Seidr flickers at his fingertips, weakened from all the use he’s put it through.  The Aesir are closer now, and he sees them pointing curiously in his direction. They see him.  His pulse quickens and he focuses all of his power on opening the portal. A blast of Seidr shoots from his fingertips and reality tears open.  He throws himself forward, ducking through the portal just in time. He slides onto the rainbow bridge just as the portal zaps closed again, and when he next opens his eyes he is standing in the icy tundra of his homeland, snowfall blurring his vision and frost nipping at his nose.

Already, Loki misses the heat.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laufey punishes Loki.

Sigyn’s fingers clutch at Loki’s bare forearm and tug.  He stands, dusting snow and ice from his hair and back and blinking in the pale white light of Jotunheimr’s sunshine.  He shivers, and Sigyn squeezes his arm.

“Loki,” she gasps.  “Are you alright?”

“It was beautiful,” he says breathlessly.  His eyes meet hers, glowing red and bright as he recalls his journey.  “The sun was shining, there was grass. It was so hot. And I saw him, Sigyn-- my Aesir Prince, he was there.  He was fighting a Vargr and it overpowered him, and I killed it. He was so pale, so beautiful… His hair was golden, Sig!  He was like no Jotunn I have ever seen,” he sighs a dreamy sigh, and collapses back into the snowpile, smiling dopily. Sigyn bends down and hoists him up again.

“We have to go,” she grunts, tugging him towards his Bilgesnipe.  She huffs at him, nosing at the top of his head. No doubt, he smells like the rolling hills and warm air of Asgard to her.  Once he has passed her inspection she grunts her approval and bends her knee to allow him to mount her. “Your father is coming.  When you opened the Bifrost, it caused the whole ground to shake. If we are not in the cave when he and Helbindi return…” 

“Come on,” Loki says, and he kicks Bilgy in the side.  She rears back and breaks into a full gallop, followed swiftly by Sigyn.  “How long was I in the Bifrost?” he shouts back to her.

“It couldn’t have been more than half an hour!” Sigyn answers.  A feeling of dread pools icy and cold in Loki’s stomach. Surely Helbindi has made it back to the palace by now, if he hasn’t led their father back to the cave already.  He fears that due to his little escapade into Asgard, he will be too late now. He will return to find his collection destroyed, no chance to reason with Laufey. To explain to him that the Aesir are not as bad as he says they are.

“Shit,” Loki hisses under his breath, and he makes haste.  “Perhaps you should go home now Sig,” he says as they draw up on the cave, and Loki climbs off of Bilgy’s back and tethers her to a rock nearby.  Sigyn shakes her head stubbornly.

“I will stay with you, Loki.”

Loki nods curtly, expression stoic.  But Sigyn recognizes the gratitude in his glowing red eyes.  He sniffs. “It’s your own funeral,” he says, and he pulls his cloak around his shoulders tight against the cold, and enters his cave.

Laufey is waiting inside, his back to his son.  He is examining a handful of Norn Stones, the colorful gems clinking against each other in the palm of his huge hand.  Loki steps up behind him, and in an act of daring he clears his throat. Laufey goes still, his fingers clenching around the stones.

“Loki,” he says softly.  His voice is calm and cold, more icy than Loki has ever heard it before.  “This is quite the collection you have here.”

“Father, I can explain,” he says.  Laufey shakes his head and turns to face his son.  Every inch of his face is etched with disappointment.

“I don’t care for your explanations anymore,” he says simply, and he drops the Norn Stones in his hand to the floor.  They clatter against the stone and skid in every direction. Loki’s chest tightens, and it takes every fiber of his being not to chase after them.  ODes his father have any idea what he paid for those? What magical power they hold? “I know that you opened the Bifrost. You went into Asgard, against my direct orders.  Did you think that I would not know?”

“I had to--”

“You  _ had  _ to do nothing!” Laufey screams, his cheeks turning indigo.  Loki’s ears ring. “All that you had to do was listen to me.  Instead, you risked everything. You’ve forsaken your home and your people, your family, on the whim of a passing fancy.  And for what? To see the sunshine? To walk with ruthless murderers and Jotunn killers?”

“They are not murderers!” Loki shouts, his emotions overwhelming him.  “They are good! If you would only give them a chance you would see--”

“You are the one who needs to see!” Laufey cries, and he pounds his scepter against the floor.  Loki stills, looking up at his father defiantly. “You have always had too much heart, Loki. But you are blinded by your faith in others.  I am doing this for you, my son,” he says. 

“No!” Loki cries, but before he can even reach out Laufey points his scepter, and one by one he begins to destroy the artifacts on the walls.  The paintings, the apples, gems, clothing, cloaks all light up with blue fire as Laufey’s Seidr blasts through his staff. Destroying all that Loki holds dear in this world.  He falls to his knees before his father, sobbing, cold tears running tracks down his cheeks. Behind him, Sigyn crouches and holds his body as it is wracked with sobs.

When all that remains around them are the smoldering remains of Loki’s cherished collection, Laufey sets his scepter down.  The cave is darkening now, the sun outside setting. The snow piles outside,the bitter winds whipping through the cavern and making Laufey’s cloak billow around his towering frame.

“You have made a grave mistake today, Laufey,” Loki grits through bared teeth, his red eyes darkened with anger, fingernails scraping against the floor of the cave.  Laufey steps over him, appraising his son with sad eyes and a disappointed frown.

“I fear we both have, my son,” he admits in a quiet voice.  And he pulls his cloak tight and treks into the snow, leaving his youngest child behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor searches for the Jotunn who saved his life.

On the other side of the Bifrost, Thor breaks fast with his friends. Volstagg shovels boiled eggs into his mouth, whole, while Sif looks at Thor with a troubled expression.

“I am telling you what I saw,” Thor says, piling his plate with sausage and porridge.  “There was a Frost Giant in that field with us. He touched me here,” he touches his chest, and then his arm, “and conjured magick with his fingers.  He healed me. He was… the most handsome Jotunn in all the Nine.”

“There is no such thing as a handsome Jotunn,” Fandral grunts around a mouthful of grapefruit.  “You have been to battle in Jotunheim. Those things are savage.”

Thor’s jaw clicks.  “Yes, most the Jotunn are ghastly.  But this one was different.” His perfect face, pale blue skin and dark hair flowing all the way down his back… The image is etched into Thor’s brain.  “To possess such beauty, he is surely the Jewel of Jotunheimr. And he saved me…”

Sif sighs, agitation clear in her tone of voice.  “No Jotunn has set foot in Asgard since before the war.  If one did escape through the Bifrost, why would he leave so soon after arriving?  And why would he heal _you_?  Thor, you must have killed the Vargr and then blacked out.  When we came upon you, you were heavily concussed. You must have hallucinated this Jotunn before you passed out--”

Thor frowns and slams his cup on the table.  “You three do not understand. He was there, I _saw_ him.  He was real and he spoke to me!  He killed the Vargr and saved my life.  When have you ever known me to have hallucinations?”

“Everybody sees weird things when they hit their heads, Thor.  Don’t you remember when I hit my head during training, and that night I dreamed that I was Ymir’s bride?” Volstagg says, polishing off the last egg on his plate and moving on to the dried fruits.  “It is no personal insult to admit that you may have imagined this… handsome Jotunn,” he says, but cannot contain the laughter that bubbles over when he speaks the phrase. “I’m sorry!” he cries when Thor chucks his cup at his head, his face turning red with anger.  “It’s just such an oxymoron. A _handsome_ _Jotunn_ , oh Norns…”

“Volstagg, shut up,” SIf commands.  She turns to Thor with a gentle expression on her face.

“If you really think that a Jotunn has crossed the Bifrost into Asgard, you should bring it to the attention of your father.  Ask Heimdall if he has seen anything! Surely he can settle this debate.”

Thor looks at SIf thoughtfully, and then he nods.  “Yes, I will speak to Heimdall. In the meantime, I want to search for him on our own.  He deserves proper thanks for saving the life of Asgard’s future King.”

Fandral huffs, and throws down his napkin.  “Dude, I told you to stop calling yourself that.  It makes you sound like a pompous moron--”

“I really don’t think that now is the time to reignite this argument,” Sif practically growls.

“Why not?  It’s not like we’ve got anything better to do.”

Volstagg snorts, “I can think of plenty things better to do, beginning with clipping my toenails or shoveling Bilgesnipe shit from the stables--”

“That is because it is what you _belong_ doing,” Sif snaps, exasperated, and she swivels her head to check on Thor at the end of the table.  It is only then that the group of quarreling friends realize that Thor has left. He even took the time to clear his plate and turn over his empty cup, and none of them noticed.  Sif groans and rests her head in her hands.

“Oh, that idiot is going to do something that is going to get us all in trouble…”

In Heimdall’s hall, Thor drinks tea and listens as the Allseer speak.

“I did feel a disruption in the Bifrost, yesterday,” Heimdall says thoughtfully.  “And something did cross over. The rift was small, and isolated, so I thought nothing of it.  These disruptions occur more often than you would think.”

“So you didn’t see a Jotunn in the field with me?”

“I see everything,” Heimdall says gravely, and he reaches out for the teapot and refills Thor’s cup with steady, sure movements.  “He killed the Vargr, and then he healed you. He even left a Seiðr signature in your body. It’s… very powerful.”

Thor frowns, confused.  “Why would he do that?”

“There are some things even I do not know, young Thor,” Heimdall answers.  “My best guess? He wanted to mark you so that he could find you again.”

Thor’s eyebrows crease.  “Why not just remain here?  I look to reward him handsomely to repay the debt of saving my life.”

“I don’t think that this Jotunn came to Asgard in search of wealth or riches,” Heimdall answers, slowly.  He looks thoughtful, and Thor wants to ask what Heimdall means. What more _could_ the Jotunn want, after all?  Heimdall speaks again, before Thor can ask his question.  “You know, your grandmother Bestla was a Frost Giant. She was a handsome woman.  I remember when she came over the Bifrost for the first time, as just a young woman.  She could drink like a beast, and once drank a whole garrison of Vanir warriors under the table.  She slit their throats while they slumbered and stole their scripts, and she won the Battle of Cummeria in the name of the Aesir that day...”

Thor smiles, and he sips his tea and allows himself to be distracted by Heimdall’s stories.  In the afternoon, he will continue his search for the Jotunn who saved him. In the meantime, he can sit and listen to a story of his ancestors.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki strikes a deal with the dark witch, Angrboða.

Loki wakes well before dawn in the hopes of not encountering his father or brothers as he makes his way to the bath and prepares for his daily duties.  Outside the sun and the moon are warring in the sky, orange light creeping up over the faraway snow capped mountains as dim stars continue to twinkle overhead.  

Loki stares at them from his bedroom window as he fixes his hair, plaiting his long locks over his shoulder in tight braids.  He pulls the braids so tight that they tug constantly at the roots, and he uses the stinging in his scalp as an excuse to explain away the warm tears that well up in his eyes as he looks out the window and towards the mountains beyond the palace walls.

He breaks fast alone, pecking at smoked salmon and sweet bread that the cook prepares for him when he comes down to the kitchens, just before sunset.  She seems troubled by his presence; probably unsure as to why the youngest prince is taking his first meal of the day in the kitchen, so early, and alone as well.  In Jotunheimr, meals are a social experience. They are meant to be taken with others, to be enjoyed.

Loki does not have any desire to entertain company now, though, and he does not enjoy his food.  Rather, his stomach feels unsettled with every bite he swallows. He forces himself to clear his plate for the sake of amity with the cook, and thanks her kindly for the early meal before he excuses himself to dress for the day.

It begins to snow as the sun rises.  Over his pants and tunic Loki pulls on his riding boots, and a thick fur coat fashioned from the pelt of a bear Býleistr slew on a hunt last fall.  Before either of his brothers or his father have roused from their loathsome dreams and rolled from bed, Loki mounts his Bilgesnipe and makes way to the lower town.

On the outskirts of the city, alone in a thick wood, is where Angrboða lives.  When Loki was young once, he curiously asked the famed Seiðrkona why it is she chooses to live out here, so far away from everybody.  Then, she had told Loki that she preferred her solitude, and Loki did not understand. Now he thinks he does. 

Actually, he does not think it; he knows.  If Loki could manage it without the notice of his father, he would slip away and never see another Jotunn again.  He would give anything to be free from those who would seek to take away all that he loves, and imprison him in this frostbitten realm for the rest of his life.

He tethers Bilgy outside Angrboða’s hovel and knocks thrice before letting himself in.  The witch is already well awake at this hour, although the sun is just barely peeking over the snowy horizon.  Loki knew this, which is why he came to her. Angrboða has always appreciated the dawn; she says that it is the best time for spellwork to be done, when the veil between the realms is at its thinnest and the powers of both sun and moon can be harnessed by the Seiðrmadr.

“Laufeyson,” she greets him as he closes the door behind himself, snowflakes following him inside and dusting the granite floors.  Loki kicks off his boots and pads barefoot to the kitchen table, sitting down with his teacher and accepting a cup of warm tea from her gratefully.  “It is early, even for you.”

“I wished to begin my lessons early,” he says, sipping dutifully at the tea she offers him.  It is flowery and sweet, and leaves a cool aftertaste on his tongue. It warms his chest as he slurps it down greedily.  “The runes call to me this morn.”

Angrboða nods in agreement.  “I agree. They have much to say today.”  but she makes no movement to go fetch her runebox, and Loki feels some form of agitation well up inside of him.  He hides it behind the rim of his cup, slurping down more tea. He finishes the cup and drops it onto the table; Angrboða pulls it close and peers at the leaves at the bottom.

“What do you see?” Loki asks.  Angrboða’s eyes lift to meet his face slowly, and then she shifts her gaze away with a small shrug.

“There is very much conflict in you, Laufeyson.  I wouldn’t wish to poison your mind with lofty ideas.”

“You see something,” Loki says, and he reaches to snatch the cup back from Angrboða.  She swipes it off of the table, and carries it to her sink. Loki kicks his chair backwards and scowls at his teacher.  “You cannot hide from me my own future, witch!”

“No, I cannot.  In due time, it will reveal itself to you,” she answers smoothly.  Loki seethes silently, his red eyes boring into Angrboða back as she washes out their cups with fresh well water.  “Now let us talk about the past. Particularly, yesterday.”

“What about it?” Loki grits after a few long moments.  Angrboða turns to him with a sly grin, her yellow teeth bared in a proud smile.

“Do not think your impromptu sojourn went unnoticed by me, Little Loki.  Who do you think it was that told your father about the Bifrost tearing open?”

“Do not call me that,” Loki snarls at the contemptuous pet name.  It is bad enough to hear it uttered from his father’s lips, but he will not allow the disrespect to continue beyond the palace walls.  “And why were you watching me? It is none of your business to tell my father where I come and go to!”

“I had no clue that it was  _ you _ who opened the Bifrost,” Angrboða says in a sly way that makes Loki doubt her sincerity entirely.  “I was only dutifully serving our King, and alerted him to a possible threat entering Jotunheimr.” 

Loki grinds his teeth and glares at her, already beginning to plot his revenge on her.  Angrboða only smiles, like she is reading his mind, and waltzes back to her kitchen table.

“So you went to Asgard.”

“What difference does it make where I went to?” Loki snarls.  “I will never be allowed to go back.”

“Your Seiðr has grown more powerful,” she says, and her red eyes flash with something akin to greed.  “You have never been able to tear between realms before.”

“A friend needed my help,” Loki says softly, his eyes on the floor.  “I did what I had to.”

“Could you do it again?” Angrboða asks, leaning closer.  Loki looks up at her and shrugs.

“I am sure I could.  But my father has forbidden me.  He does not want me to go to Asgard again,” he says bitterly.  Angrboða’s eyes widen, and she nods in understanding. She leans back, listening as Loki continues.  “It is not like they would accept me there, either. My blue skin is nothing more but a death sentence there.  Or… so says my father,” he adds with a sigh.

Angrboða hums thoughtfully.  “You would go back, if you could?”

“Of course,” Loki says bitterly.

“I could fashion that for you, if you wished,” she says.  Loki’s chin jerks at the suggestion, his face lighting up with greedy delight at the mere idea of returning to Asgard.  “I would give you an Aesir skin, make you appear to be one of their own… you could stay there for as long as you liked, undetected, to live and learn amongst them.  Your father would never know.”

Loki’s eyes narrow.  “How?”

“Seiðr is a valuable tool in the right hands, my sweet Loki.  All I’ll need is some extra glam and I’ll give you the palest skin, the brightest eyes and pinkest lips of any Aes you’ve ever seen.  I could even turn your hair golden if you’d like, though I do think you are better suited with your dark hair.”

The idea gives Loki pause.  He pouts his lips, thinking deeply.  “My father will never approve.”

“Your father will never know,” Angrboða hisses with glee.  Loki’s eyes light up as she explains. “Here on Jotunheimr will remain your double; a perfect Doppelgänger to fool your father and friends into believing that you have never even left.”

“And what is your price, witch?” Loki asks, ever knowledgeable of the way of the worlds.  Angrboða sighs and shakes her head, as if simply asking for what she does takes a toll on her.

“It is just… a lot of glam, to sustain such a ruse.  And I am sure you will want to be in Asgard for a while, and the longer you stay, the more my powers will be… depleted,” she says, and then she smiles.  Her yellow teeth gleam in the early morning sunlight that filters through the dirty cottage windows. “I’ll need some help. Some of your Seiðr to help me make you into an Aes, and sneak you over the Bifrost unnoticed by your father.”

Loki scowls.  “You ask too much, dark witch.  The answer is no.”

Angrboða shrugs.  “I see. I suppose then, that the leaves of your tea this morning did tell me a lie.”

Loki’s heart leaps into his throat.  “What did the leaves say?” he asks again.  His words are little more than a growl.

“That you, Laufeyson, will find love in the golden city of Asgard.”

Loki’s mind conjures an image of the Aesir prince, with his gleaming muscles and golden curls.  He remembers the feeling of his body underneath Loki’s fingers, healing him with his Seiðr and stitching back together the wounds left by the Vargr wolf.  He wonders if he has recovered well from that hunt. He wishes there were some way that he could know. He wishes....

“Alright,” Loki says, breathless.  And like many young fools before him, Loki steps towards his doom with upturned palms and an open heart.  “Take my Seiðr. And then take me to Asgard.”

Angrboða smiles wickedly, and reaches out with her clawed fingernails and grips Loki by the chest.  “With pleasure, Little Loki,” she hisses. The blue-green light of his Seiðr pours from his body like blood from a wound, and Angrboða consumes it all with greedy excitement, her own form seeming to grow with each pulse of Loki’s glam that flows from his chest.  Loki feels its loss like the loss of a child, and he shakes and cries as Angrboða takes it from him with all the joy of salesman reaping her rewards.

And when Loki falls to the ground, surely enough his Seiðr is all but gone.  But too, his skin is pale now, and when he looks into his grimy reflection in Angrboða windows his eyes are light and glowing green as the pastures of Asgard.  And Loki believes that he, too, has only just begun to reap his rewards.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki makes it to the golden city of Asgard. He meets Thor, for the second time.

As awesome as the gift Angrboða has given to him seems, Loki is still resentful that it cost him so dearly.  Life without the aid of his Seiðr seems… dull at best, if not outright miserable. Too soon, Loki begins to feel that he has been had.  Especially now, as he roams the distant hills of Asgard in the blazing sun, feeling sweaty and miserable and lonely. Where are the many people he had spied on through his magical looking glass so many times?  Where are the Aesir warriors he had fought the Vargr wolf for just days ago? Where is his Aesir prince?

He’d marked him with a Seiðr signature the last time he’d touched him, so that finding him again would be easy if he ever returned to Asgard.  Of course, now it would not be such a simple task. Without his own glam, he’d be hard sold to conjure a divining spell for the young prince. So, Loki guesses he’ll just have to track him the old-fashioned way.  By foot. Which will be… not so hard, right? Hunters do it all the time, afterall.

But Loki is not a hunter, he is a Seiðrmadr.  A Seiðrmadr without any Seiðr, to be exact, and one who grossly underestimated the toll that the heat would take on his poor little Jotunn body.  Loki’s newly acquired Aesir skin is burned red and raw within one hour, and within two all of his water is gone from his snakeskin. What is even worse is that he is lost, most likely actively walking in circles at this point, and doesn’t see another soul for miles around.

Of course he doesn’t expect to collapse.  It’s never happened before-- there never was cause for heat stroke on Jotunheimr, where the winters are eternal and “summer” is a mere concept.  And when he next opens his eyes he finds he’s being poked with a stick by a concerned-looking man with a sizeable beer-belly and a grim expression on his face.  His fiery red hair sprouts in tufts from the top of his head and in patches on his face, and when he sees that Loki is awake his face is awash with relief.

“Thank the Norns!  I’d be so pissed if I had to drag another dead body back to the palace,” he says.  Loki’s head is spinning, but his ears perk up at the mention of the palace. He struggles to sit up, and the man step forward to help him up.  “Name yourself, stranger,” he says as he lifts Loki from the ground with ease. Loki bows to him courteously.

“I am Loki.  Son of… Farbauti.”  He wisely does not name Laufey his sire, for he knows the power in the name of his ruthless father.  “I’ve come a long way in search of a friend,” he says. The warrior’s face lights up.

“You’re a traveler!  You will come with me to the palace, then.  Prince Thor is want to meet with all visitors to Asgard.  A Seiðrmadr saved his life last week, and when he finds them he means to pay them back with spoils.”

This certainly peaks Loki’s interest.  He tilts his chin and eyes the warrior curiously.  “Is that so?”

“Yup!  We’ll go now.  Would you like some water?  You look very pale.”

“I’d have your name first, sir,” Loki says with a sly smile.   _ To name something is to tame it _ .

“I am Volstagg, Lion of Asgard.  Now come on, daylight is dwindling.  We’ll make way to the training fields, that’s where the Prince will be.”  Loki lights up at the mention of the Prince. In his mind’s eye he can picture him, heaving and sweating as he fights at the training fields Loki has spied on so many times before from his rooms in Jotunheimr.  Now he is finally going to see them for himself, in person! And what more, he’ll be able to see  _ Prince Thor _ once again…

As they walk, Volstagg hands his waterskin to Loki and he drinks from it greedily.  In all of his life he doesn’t think he’s thirsted like this, but then, he’s never seen a sun like this before either.  His skin is still burning, and every brush of his clothing against his flesh stings like a hundred little bees. Volstagg eyes him curiously as he limps along behind him.

“Not used to the sun much, Farbautijarson?” Volstagg asks.  Loki blinks at him, sweat dripping down his forehead and stinging in his eyes.

“No,” he answers bitterly.  He wipes his sleeve against his face, and it comes back soaked.  “I am more used to the snow than the heat,” he says, and immediately regrets his words.  Volstagg turns beady eyes on him, looking him up and down.

“Where do you come from?  You don’t look like a Frost Giant to me,” he says gruffly.  Loki’s stomach turns at the unpleasant look on Volstagg’s face, and he quickly supplants his tongue slip with a lie.

“Not as far as Jotunheimr, no.  I am come from Utgardr.”

“Ah, you are one of the Ice Folk!” Volstagg nods.  “That explains your very light skin.”

“Very red, now,” Loki grumbles, rubbing at his tender flesh.  Volstagg chuckles.

“Aye, that’ll happen.  The healers at the palace have a salve that will relieve your pain.  But first, I’ll bring you to Thor.”

Loki is fine with that plan.  He is excited to see Thor again, especially now that he knows his name.  He wants to check on the progress of the prince’s healing, see how well his Seiðr has worked on the poor Aesir’s body.

Most of all, he wants to see Thor fight up close.  He’s seen some of what the Aes can do, through his looking glass from home, but his last in-person encounter with the crown prince certainly left him wanting for more.  He wants to see Thor wield his hammer and destroy his enemy, and with that thought he follows after Volstagg with a distinct spring in his step and a smirk on his lips.

In the distance, moving figures come into focus.  Loki has been walking alone for so long at this point that he wonders for a moment if they are just a mirage, but Volstagg seems to recognize them too.  Loki cranes his neck to look more closely at his first glimpse of  _ real _ Aesir civilization.

“You are in for a treat.  Sif and Thor are sparring,” he says with a smile, and he leads Loki to the edge of a ditch where a female warrior is facing off against the crown prince of the Aesir.  They bare no weapons, sparring with bare hands and feet. A well-placed kick causes for Thor to stagger backwards, and Loki winces sympathetically. He surges forward after that and flips her on her back, pinning her with his huge muscles.  She struggles briefly, but even Sif knows when to relent and she taps out after thirty seconds on the floor.

“Come on,” Volstagg says, tugging Loki along into the circle.  Volstagg claps Sif, on the back of her armour as he walks by, and he barely dodges the swipe at his head that she takes.  They approach Thor, the Thunderer himself, and Loki’s palms begin to sweat. The prince is… so big. His muscles gleam with sweat, his golden hair tied back and his face beaming with pride from his victory.

“Thor!” Volstagg shouts, and he grasps his friend’s arm in greeting.  Thor smiles and claps him in the side, nearly toppling Volstagg with his strength.  “I have come with a traveler. This is Loki Farbautijarson. He has come from Utgardr to see our golden city,” he says, and he reaches back and grabs ahold of Loki’s arm.  He tugs him forward, and staggering, Loki comes to stand in front of Thor himself. Even with his Seiðr so depleted, Loki can see the faint blue signature of his healing glam buzzing around Thor’s hulking body.  “I found him collapsed in the field over there,” Volstagg adds, unhelpfully. Loki’s cheeks color, and Thor frowns.

“I hope you are alright,” he says carefully.  Loki blinks, shaking his head.

“I am no worse for wear, Prince Thor.  A little sunburn is a fine price to pay to visit the golden city of Asgard.”

Thor chuckles, expression brightening.  “I could not have said so better myself,” he says.  “Farbautijarson… I have not heard this name before. What are you doing here in Asgard, so far away from home?”

“I was searching for something,” Loki answers, his sharp green eyes lingering on Thor’s muscles, then meeting his bright blue gaze.  The dim glow of his own Seiðr around Thor’s body is making his heart sing with pleasure. He sees a sparkle in Thor’s eye that makes his whole body tingle with excitement.  “But I think I have already found it.”

Thor’s eyes widen slightly, and his eyes sweep over Loki’s lithe body once again, gaze settling on the sharp features of his face.  Recognition dawns briefly on his face, and then he reaches out and cups Loki’s cheek with the most gentle touch.

“I feel like I have met you before.  Perhaps…,” his eyes flick towards Volstagg, who is looking at Thor expectantly.  Then he blushes and drops his hand from Loki’s face, clearing his throat. “Well, perhaps not.  Would you care to spar with me, Loki? I would like to see your skills.”

Loki hesitates.  He is well practiced in the art of defensive Seiðr, but Angrboða is in possession of that power now.  And Loki has seen Thor fight, many more times than the Aes even realizes, and he knows that he is no match for the crown prince of Asgard.  And yet… the prospect of facing Thor in battle, experience the Thunderer’s lust for blood up close and personal, is overwhelming to Loki. He nods dumbly, and nearly falls over when Thor claps him on the back with a friendly crow and leads him to the center of the circle.

“I warn you, friend,” Volstagg says as he passes by, “Thor is the best trained warrior in Asgard.  Be careful!”

Loki is tempted to sneer at the jibe, as he has seen for himself that the mighty Thor can be and has been defeated in the past.  Instead he kicks his shoes off and drags his bare feet across the dusty ground, kicking up dirt behind himself like an angry bull.  Thor chuckles at the display and readies himself, squaring up for the fight with Loki.

Thor is the first to strike, predictably.  Loki knew that it was coming, from his hours worth of experience in watching Thor fight.  The prince enjoys to be on the offensive; likes to see his opponents dance and dodge away from his blows.  He ducks and skids through the dust, swiping at Thor’s leg with his own. He trips him and Thor falls flat on his face.  The crowd around them all hisses and snickers, but Thor is quick to recover, barreling towards Loki in another attempt to smash him.

Loki dodges again, this time aiming a strike at Thor’s belly.  He barely has the chance to reach out before Thor has grabbed ahold of his arm and spun him, punching him in the jaw and throwing him to the floor.  Loki rolls away, hopping back to his feet. He can feel blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, and he wipes it away with the back of his hand.  His eyes, filled with mirth, flicker up to meet Thor’s expectant gaze.

“It’s about time you hit me,” he snarks, then dodges Thor’s arms as he reaches out to deliver another blow.  Fast as light, he whips around Thor and lands a few good jabs to his pressure points. It doesn’t take him down, but Loki can clearly see that it weakens him.  He is smirking, ready to gloat in his victory, when Thor grabs him around the waist and slams him into the dirt. Loki cries out, stunned, and wriggles in Thor’s grasp as he bears down and pins Loki to the ground.

“Ready to tap out?” Thor taunts.  Loki growls and bares his teeth at the Prince, and Thor looks at him with a bemused expression and a little smile on his face.  He realizes belatedly that with this Aesir glamour on, this show of aggression probably looks more silly than it does scary. Loki narrows his eyes at Thor and snaps his jaw closed, then uses all of his strength to drive his knees into Thor’s chest and push him off.

“Never, Your Highness,” he hisses, and he lunges for Thor’s neck, climbing onto his back and wrapping his arms around the prince’s head.  Thor stumbles, shocked, but quickly recovers. He reaches back and grabs onto Loki’s shoulder, struggling to get them both into a position where he will be able to successfully flip Loki over his shoulder before he manages to schoke Thor out.  

“You fight well, Prince Thor,” Loki hisses in his ear, his breath coming out in harsh, warm puffs against Thor’s neck.  It takes every ounce of Loki’s self control not to stick his tongue out and drag it over the prince’s glistening skin; taste the golden skin and salty sweat for himself. “I wasn’t sure you’d be in a state for fighting, after the way that Vargr tore at you.”

Thor flips Loki over his shoulder, and the little Jotunn lands with a painful  _ thump _ in the dirt, blinking up at Thor’s shocked face.  A nearly predatory grin spreads across his face, and he hops to his feet with grace, shoving Thor backwards. He uses the opportunity of Thor’s  confusion to leap forward, kicking him in the chest and landing him flat on his back in the center of the pit. He straddles his chest, pinning him with his strong thighs, and grabs ahold of his wrists to hold him down.  Thor struggles meekly, but it is clear to Loki now that the prince’s mind is anywhere but on their sparring. He grins triumphantly, and leans in closer.

“Has a gib-cat got your tongue, my lord?” he whispers.  Thor surges forward, wrapping his arms around Loki and holding him fast.

“It’s  _ you _ .  You are the one I saw in the field.  You…,” he looks Loki over again, as he did once before, his eyebrows creasing in confusion.  “I had thought that you were Jotunn. But....” He trails off and stands, hoisting Loki up with him and beaming at the handsome stranger.  “Come with me back to the palace. We will feast. We have much to celebrate, tonight.”

And Loki, starstruck by Thor’s great muscles and his trusting heart, follows along with a happy spring in his step.  He doesn’t even think for one moment what Angrboða must be using his Seiðr for back on Jotunheimr.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor invites Loki to feast with Asgard's finest warriors. Loki examines his new body.

The food in Asgard is very different from what Loki is used to.  For most of his life the prince has subsisted on fish and flavorless vegetables that were hardy enough to sustain life in the bitter cold of Jotunheimr.

In Asgard, his first meal is decadent.  The palace servants place a whole ox carcass in front of Loki, juices dribbling in red streaks down the sides of it, the savory scent making his stomach rumble.  Fat, rich hams and plates full of tenderly cooked salmon are laid out. Further down the table, Loki’s greedy eyes catch sight of a plate piled high with pasties and honey danishes meant for the ladies, and immediately Loki knows what Asgardian fare he will be sampling first.

“You must be hungry.  You’ve come such a long way from Utgard,” Thor bellows, and the servants begin to pile Loki’s plate high with delicacies.  Loki shovels the food into his hungry maw, and Thor watches with an expression of bemused appreciation for his guest’s unending appetite.

Only when Loki has polished off an entire ox, three whole salmon and an entire plate full of pasties (the women do  _ not  _ look impressed) on his own, does he sit back in his chair and smile at Thor.  He wipes his face off with the back of his hand, delicately, and lets his eyes roam up and down Thor’s body as if  _ he _ is the next course to be served up for this feast.

“Thank you for inviting me here, Prince Thor,” he says.  Thor beams and leans in closer to whisper to Loki.

“It was my pleasure.  You are… smaller than the Ice Folk I have encountered in the past,” he says thoughtfully, and Loki tenses.  But Thor smiles at him, and it dazzles him so much that he finds himself smiling back only a moment later. “But what you lack in height, you make up for with your ravenous appetite.  And I very much respect a man who can devour a whole ox the way you just did!”

Loki deigns to blush at Thor’s praise, and now it is Thor’s turn to beam proudly that he could make his guest feel so abashed.  He feels Thor’s eyes sliding up and down his body in appreciation; settling on his curved hips and strong legs, then back up to his sharp jaw and delicate facial features. Loki shifts, letting his legs fall open, his leather pants doing little to hide the contours of his body.  Thor looks down, his cheeks going red and eyes wide, and he nearly chokes on the boar meat he is chewing.

“Loki,” Fandral calls from the other end of the table.  Loki finally tears his gaze away from the spectacle of Thor’s choking to look upon the fair-skinned warrior sitting at the end of the table.  “We were hoping you might be able to demonstrate some of your magic for us,” he says shrewdly. Loki’s face goes pale, and he feels his overstuffed stomach churn unpleasantly.  “Thor says he was healed by a Seiðr wielding Jotunn,” Fandral continues, his eyes gleaming, lips twisting in a smug little smile. Loki is beginning to think that he hates Fandral’s face.  “And you are neither Jotunn, nor have we seen you conjure any Seiðr…”

“Fandral,” Thor warns him, but he ignores the crown prince in favor to goading Loki some more.

“I simply am curious,” he insists, then sneers at Loki.  “And wish to determine that our little Loki here is not an imposter…”

“Do not call me that!” Loki hisses, growing enraged at the nickname that rolls off Fandral’s tongue.  Loki throws his hands up in the air, blue and green sparks flying from his fingertips. The Aesir sitting nearest to him reel back in shock and fear; all except Thor, who beams at him with an indeterminable look in his eyes.  Loki preens at the startled and frankly scared look that crosses Fandral’s face, but on the inside, he quails at how pitiful that show of Seiðr was. Even in his early 100s, he could have produced a more impressive blast of glam than that.  And worse yet, conjuring those tiny sparks took up so much of his energy that he feels like he might collapse all over again.

“I’m sorry to have doubted you, Seiðrmardr,” Fandral says.  Loki bristles at the formal address and nods stiffly, reaching out to pluck some meat off the bones of the boar in front of him.  A buxxom servant girl bustles over and serves more meat onto his plate, which Loki eats with renewed vigor. Thor laughs and reaches out to pat Loki on the back.

“That was most impressive, Loki!  Tell me, do you have lodgings arranged for your stay in Asgard?”

“No, Your Highness,” Loki answers through a mouthful of boar meat.  Thor reaches out and pats his hand.

“Call me Thor.  You saved my life, we are kin now,” he says gently.  Loki preens, his heart thudding in his chest. He forgets about the bitterness towards Fandral and the other Aesir he was feeling only moments ago, starstruck once again by Thor’s sweet words and dashing looks.  Thor appears… equally as smitten with Loki, it seems. “I’ll offer you lodgings in the castle. There is a set of empty chambers in the same corridor as my bedroom. You can rest there tonight, and for as long as you plan to stay in Asgard.”

Loki nods, his smile self-satisfied when he glances at Fandral.  He can see that the prince’s friend is scowling down at his plate, unhappy.  He looks back to Thor and turns his palm over, clasping the prince’s hand in his own and leaning into Thor’s space.

“I would be honored to stay here with you, Thor,” he says.  Thor beams back at him, his smile all soft lines and sweet elation.  And in that moment, Loki knows that he has already won the game for Thor’s heart.

Loki arrives to his chambers late that night, having enjoyed an entertaining Kantele show after dinner, accompanied by a traditional Asgardian dance.  Loki watched the whole display with rapt amusement, comparing all that he sees to the usual dances he grew up with on Jotunheimr. In the icy tundra that he has called his home, Loki himself is considered quite the skilled dancer.  Of course, traditional Jotunn dances involve… much more skin, and sensual movement, than the dances that those Asgardian girls were presenting. Still, all of the men seemed to be amused. Loki thinks that perhaps, the seductive dances of Jotunheim would even be overwhelming to the puritanical Aesir.

He’ll have to try one out on Thor sometime, and see.  Just the thought of it makes him smirk, and he grows hard in his trousers.

Loki sets about removing his clothing to prepare for bed.  He finds a set of pyjamas laid out on his bed; a loose tunic and short clothes that will fit him comfortably.  He sheds his clothes and stands in the mirror naked, examining his new Aesir form closely for the very first time.

He looks so different.  It’s really shocking, and at first, Loki is actually disgusted by the image of himself in the mirror.  He is so pale! Where his clothes covered him during the day, his skin is white and pasty. The other places, where the sun was allowed to beat down on his sensitive skin unrepentantly all day, he is burned bright red.  He winces when he touches himself, and makes a mental note to go to the healers in the morning to fetch some of that salve Volstagg mentioned to him earlier.

His gaze travels lower, and Loki finds himself staring at his genitals.  It doesn’t look very different from what it was when he was in his Jotunn form.  Now it’s just so  _ pale _ .  He reaches between his legs and touches himself with a sigh, the memory of Thor’s sweat covered skin pressed against his own coming straight to mind.  He brings himself fully to hardness, then lets go of himself. His cock flops and hangs straight out, the flushed red tip almost poking against the surface of the mirror.  Loki palms his cock out of the way and peaks between his legs, ready to slip his fingers inside of himself. But when he looks between his legs he lets out a loud cry of shock, and nearly faints.

That  _ witch _ , Angrboða!  What had she  _ done  _ to him?  Loki was completely mutilated!  Where his cunt once blossomed from between his long, sleek legs, there was now nothing but a smooth expanse of sensitive skin.  With a whimper he strokes his fingers against himself. Is this what Aesir genitalia look like? So flat and  _ barren _ between their legs?  How can they even bare to look at themselves?

“Loki, I wanted to ask for your company--  _ oh, _ ” Thor stops in the doorway, shocked, and Loki quickly uses his hands to cover his most private areas.  Thor is frozen in the doorway, staring. Loki snarls at him.

“Don’t you knock, you oaf?” he spits.  Thor looks stunned at the verbal attack, and he blinks in surprise.

“I did knock.  You mustn’t have heard me.  I’m sorry Loki, I’ll… why are you covering your breasts like a woman?” he asks.  Loki blushes furiously and drops his hand from his chest, exposing his rosy nipples to the cold air and to Thor’s inquisitive gaze.  He uses both hands now to cup his erection-- which unfortunately still has not flagged!

“Will you stop ogling me and close the door?” Loki hisses, turning away.  Obediently, Thor exits the room and closes the door behind him with a quiet  _ clunk _ .  Loki sighs, nearly collapsing on his bed, and begins to quickly pull on his small clothes and tunic.

“Loki, may I come in?” Thor asks after a few minutes, knocking gently on the door.  Fully dressed now, Loki wrenches the door open and glares up at the Aesir prince. He flips his long hair over his shoulder gracefully and looks at Thor expectantly.

“What do you require, Your Highness?”

“You called me an oaf,” Thor blinks, still looking dazed.  Loki scoffs, a small smirk playing at his lips and he shrugs.  

“I call it like it is,” he says without missing a beat, and doing his best to look bored.  It is a hard feat, even for Loki. Thor looks at him incredulously. “You were gawping at me like an oaf, so I named you an oaf.  Surely you don’t take insult?”

Thor narrows his eyes at Loki, and then after a short moment, he laughs and shakes his head.  He smiles and pats Loki on his side. “No, I don’t take offense. Now, I came to ask if you’d like to join me on a nighttime stroll?  The lights are out tonight, I thought we could go watch them.”

Loki has to smile at that.  Oh, was Thor coming to ask him on a  _ date _ ?  The poor fool.  He stretches out his hand and lets Thor take his arm, tucking Loki’s smaller body into his side.  “I’d love to see the lights. Can you imagine, I had forgotten that it was their season?”

Thor nods.  “Aye, the sight of them must be spectacular from Utgardr.  How long have you been gone from your home?”

Loki blinks.  Thor’s line of questioning was unexpected.  He clears his throat. “Not long. I do not miss it,” he says.  “One can only live in the snow and ice for so long before they grow to hate it,” Loki says bitterly.  Thor looks at him sadly.

“Don’t you have family there?”

“I…,” Loki thinks of Laufey, wonders briefly what his father must think right now.  Does he even know that Loki is missing? If Angrboða cloned him as she said she would, there should be no suspicion of his absence.  But if his father did know, would he even care? Would he look for Loki at all? He had destroyed Loki’s most prized possessions with glee, Helbindi crowing him on from the sidelines.  Loki’s heart hardens in his chest, and he scowls. “I have no kin where I come from. I am happier here.”

They leave the palace, and follow a path through the woods to a wide clearing.  There, the sky is open and clear. Bright blue and green and pink lights dance in the sky, and Loki feels like his breath has been taken away.  He smiles, and Thor looks at him sweetly, admiring Loki in his happy state. 

“It is beautiful, Thor,” he says in a hushed tone.  Thor smiles. 

“Aye.  The second most beautiful thing I have seen this night,” he agrees.  Loki blushes, for he knows that Thor is speaking of him. He shoves at Thor’s chest and growls at him.

“Oh, you probably say that to every man and woman you take out here to seduce,” he says.  Thor grins.

“So it is working?  I am seducing you,” he says confidently.  Loki laughs and rolls his eyes. Thor pulls him in, crushing him against his chest, and Loki tilts his chin up and opens his mouth to receive a kiss.  Thor delivers in full, his sweet lips catching against Loki’s in a slow, pleasant kiss. The lights in the sky sparkly overhead, and Loki tangles his fingers into Thor’s long golden hair and holds on for dear life.

At 1100 years old, this is the happiest moment of his life.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Loki begin to court. Unexpected snow blows into Asgard, along with an invasion from Jotunheimr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read it, please leave a comment. I always reply!

Loki awakes to the Asgardian sunshine on his face, streaming through the paned glass windows of his temporary chambers.  He is sprawled on the decadent bedspread, enjoying the soft, silent sheets and the huge, fluffy pillows that are piled at the head of the bed.  He is not used to having such opulent sleeping arrangements. In Jotunheimr, sleep is considered nothing more than an essential function of the body.  There is no room for luxury in the barren, icy planes of Loki’s home world.

Loki is lounging on the bed, lazily blinking sleep from his eyes and wondering what Asgard will have to offer in the way of breakfast.  Those pasties he tasted at the feast last night were devine… Almost as delicious as the kisses he and Thor had shared under the Lights later that night.   _ Almost _ .

A light knocking disturbs Loki from his thoughts, and he stands up and glides to the doors of his chamber.  When he pulls open the door he finds Thor standing there, dressed in his armor and apparently ready for the day.  He looks Loki up and down; his uncombed hair, his sheer nightgown clinging to his body. 

“Odinson,” Loki says, lips curling at the corners.  Thor nods his head and averts his eyes respectfully, though he doesn’t miss the way his gaze lingers.  He smirks.

“Loki.  I wondered if you would care to break your fast with me in the gardens.  It is the time for Idunn’s Apples here, and I would love to let you taste them.” he says, and then he blushes.  Loki hums, gliding gracefully towards the bed. He begins to lay out his clothes for the day as he speaks.

“Of course, Thor.  Would you allow me to dress? Mornings are never so early in Utgardr,” he says.  The lie rolls off of his tongue with ease. Thor bows his head.

“Of course!  I am ready for an early start this morning.  The summer is eternal on Asgard but the Autumn passes shortly, and I like to take advantage of the weather while it lasts.”  Then he pauses, and he just… stands there. Loki glances over his shoulder as he lets his nightgown slip off of his shoulder, and he clears his throat expectantly.

“Thor?  Aren’t you going to look away?”

Thor brow creases in confusion, but he does as Loki commands.  He can hear the rustling of fabrics as Loki strips, and he tries not to imagine the slow reveal of Loki’s naked form.  “Why do you pretend to have the same virtues as a woman?” Thor asks. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Thor says, tempering his words with a pause.  “In Asgard, men do not care to cover their chests or turn away while they undress.  Such modesty is only expected of women.”

Loki huffs, and there is a long stretch of silence where Thor awaits an answer.  He startles when suddenly, he feels the press of Loki’s nude body against his back, long smooth arms winding around Thor’s waist.  His cock pressed against the back of Thor’s thigh, semi-hard and warm against Thor’s leg. His breath hitches, but he doesn’t try to move away from Loki’s embrace.  He doesn’t want to. 

“Does that make me argr?”

Thor gasps when Loki thrusts against him, erection pressing between Thor’s thighs.  He ruts against him lazily, and Thor’s brain nearly short circuits. Is Loki really going to  _ get off _ by rubbing against his ass?  “No, Loki. You are… clearly a man,” he says, voice strained.  Loki grunts and thrusts against his leg, and precum drips from his cock and on to Thor’s breaches.

“Well don’t you think this makes it more fun?” he whispers in Thor’s ear.  He shudders and reaches into his own pants, quickly withdrawing his own cock.  He is as hard as a diamond, and he groans Loki’s name softly. “When you can’t see me; when you have to imagine what I look like instead?”

“Loki,” he sighs.  Loki grunts and thrusts against his ass, movements becoming more erratic. 

“Yes, Thor.  So good. Hah,” he sighs, and his come splatters against Thor’s leg in a messy spray.  He groans and tugs at his cock, wringing out the last drops of come. His arms squeeze around Thor’s hips, and the Aesir’s breath hitches before he comes himself, coating his hand in spend.  

Loki smiles and releases Thor, backing away from him a step. Thor begins to turn around, but Loki quickly speaks before he can fully turn.

“Go wait outside for me,” Loki orders, and Thor stills.  He is no doubt not used to taking orders from his bedmates, nor anybody.  “I’ll be ready for you… shortly.”

Thor huffs.  “It seems to me like you have been ready for me,” he says shortly.  Loki smirks, trying not to laugh at Thor’s amusing comment. He places his hands on Thor’s shoulders and pushes him towards the door.

“Five minutes, Thor.  I will meet you outside.  Now go.”

And Thor obeys.  He closes the door behind him without another word, and Loki collapses against the door with a happy sigh and a smirk on his lips.  Thor is  _ his _ .

\---

“I don’t believe him,” Fandral says to Sif, as they stand on the edge of the training pit and watch as Loki and Thor spar with each other.  They are hardly even exerting themselves; spending more time making flirting taunts and lingering touches than actually delivering strategic blows to one another.  “There is something untrustworthy about him.”

“Well, of course,” Sif says quite simply.  “You know all these sorcerer types are sneaky and mysterious.  But Thor seems to like him,” she says. Her nose only crinkles a little bit when she tacks on, “I never thought I’d see him courting one of the  _ Ettings _ ,” she says with distaste.  Fandral narrows his eyes in Loki’s direction.

“That’s another whole matter itself.  He looks like no other Utgardian I have ever seen.”

“And when was the last time you went to Utgard?” Sif asks doubtfully.  Fandral scowls at her, for he has never actually been to Utgardr, and Sif knows this.  Still, he’s seen books with drawings in them! And the Ettings are a massive people; their stature is nowhere near as small as Loki’s is.  

“It doesn’t matter.  He is lying about who he is, I know it.  I am going to speak to Heimdall about it.”

“You’re going to rouse up trouble,” Sif says, but she doesn’t protest Fandral’s decision to consult the gatekeeper.  Heimdall sees all, and if Loki is lying about who he is and what he wants from Thor, then he will be the one to tell them.  

A sudden outburst of laughter interrupts both Fandral and Sif’s brooding, and they look down to see that Thor has Loki pinned to the dusty floor.  Loki is wriggling all over the place, brushing his body against Thor’s and… Dear God, that does not look appropriate. Fandral’s mouth drops open and he turns to look at Lady Sif, whose face has gone pale and whose eyes have gone wide with anger.  He barely has the time to articulate his thoughts before Sif storms off. Fandral decides to take his leave a few moments later, when Loki reaches out and pulls Thor down for a kiss. 

He does  _ not  _ need to be watching this right now.  Right now, he needs to find Heimdall.  They need to talk about Thor.

\---

The air is brisk as they walk through Idunn’s gardens.  Thor snatches ripened apples from the branches as they walk by, placing them into a basket that he makes Loki carry.  Loki smiles lovingly at Thor, looking on at the prince in wonder. Everywhere that he goes Thor seems to brighten the room, bring life to the world around him.  The trees bend in his direction, apples falling ripe into his open palms. He shares a boyish smile with Loki every time, as though he isn’t even aware of the effect his magic has on those around him.  

“Is this how the weather is here always?” Loki asks as they lay beneath an apple tree a few hours later, sharing slices of apple along with quiet pleasantries.  

“No, this is our cold season.  Normally the sun shines much brighter… the weather warmer.  That’s the way it is for most of the year.l.. Perhaps if you stay a while longer, you’ll be lucky enough to see it.”

“Oh… no.  I don’t like the heat,” Loki says with a chuckle.  Even now, he finds the weather barely tolerable. He tells Thor so.

“Are you uncomfortable now?” Thor asks, turning on his side and looking Loki up and down.  “How cold would you have it?”

“I prefer the snow.”

“I can easily make it snow for you.” Thor boasts, and treats Loki to a cocky smile.  He waves his hand above his head. The sky rumbles and clouds gather quickly. Loki’s mouth drops open, and he watches in surprise as small snowflakes begin to fall from the sky.  He opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue to catch some fat snowflakes between his lips. Thor laughs and Loki rolls over, throws his arm over Thor’s belly and presses a gentle kiss to his lips.

“You are a sentimental fool,” he chuckles against his lips.  Thor smiles and loops his arms around Loki’s waist.

“And yet here you are, kissing me,” he says.  Loki blinks owlishly at him and Thor laughs again.  He reaches out and brushes some snow off the top of Loki’s head, smoothing his fingers through his long black hair.  Loki’s eyes flit towards the sky again, and he watches in wonder for a few moments as the snow continues to fall. It’s coming down fast, and Loki enjoys the feeling of the cold flakes landing on his skin.  Even with the glamour hiding his true visage, they do not melt when they land on his skin. Already there is a thin film of snow resting on the ground around them.

“So, you are telling me that it never snows like this in Asgard?” he asks. He rolls off of Thor and reaches out to the sky, catching the flakes as they fall.  Thor hums.

“Not usually.  In fact, I’m sure the meteorlogs will be asking me questions tomorrow.”

Loki cannot help but feel bad for Thor, and the rest of Asgard.  To not have snow… what a miserable life. As sick as Loki had become of the frost-covered plains of his homeland, he cannot imagine living a life without snow.

“Do you normally change the weather on a whim?” Loki asks with a small chuckle.  Thor smiles slowly.

“Occasionally.  When I was younger it was more difficult for me to control… if I lost my temper I could flood the whole of Gladsheim in a matter of hours.  When I was five hundred, my pet Bilgesnipe died and it rained for a month straight. Then my father gave me Mjolnir to channel my powers. It’s easier to control the weather if its a subtle change, too.  The weather today was on the chilly side, so it only took a bit of exertion to bring on the snow. I’ll make it stop soon,” he says, and waves his hand at the sky casually. The wind blows, the clouds moving closer to where they are.  The snow keeps falling, and Loki smiles at the feeling of the flakes landing on his rosy cheeks.

“I didn’t know that you had Seiðr.” He hadn’t seen any signature around Thor’s body, even the first time that he met him.  He frowns at the derisive snort that Thor answers his statement with.

“Seiðr?  Only Frost Giants have Seiðr,” he says dismissively.  “My powers are simply elemental magick. I am no witch,” he spares a glance in Loki’s direction, eyes tracing every feature of his face carefully as though he is trying to discern something from looking at Loki for so long.  “I… thought that you would have magic, too. I suppose I thought that you were someone else.”

Loki opens his mouth, his breath caught suddenly in his chest.  He needs to tell Thor the truth. But… how can he even begin? “Thor, I need to confess something to you…”

“Thor!   _ Your Highness!” _ The sound of hoofbeats pounding against the ground is the only warning they receive before Fandral rides up in full armour, a panicked expression on his face.  Thor quickly stands, his hand already stretched out and calling for his hammer. “Thor, we must hurry. Frost Giants have invaded the palace. Your father--”

“Come on,” Thor says, and he jumps onto the back of Fandral’s horse.

“Hey!  I will come with you,” Loki says quickly.  Fandral glares at him. Thor holds out his hand to stop him.

“No, Loki.  Stay here where it is safe.  I’ll come get you when the beasts have been slain.”  He turned away, and a moment later Fandral shouted at his horse and they sped off in the direction of the palace.  Loki watches them go, his fingers twitching. Something about this does not feel right. With a knot in his stomach, Loki makes his way to Idunn’s stables to borrow one of her horses, and he sets out for the palace.  If Frost Giants really are invading Asgard, he has no doubt that Angrboða and his stolen Seiðr has something to do with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeyyyy all! I apologize for the delay in the posting of this update. Things just got really crazy for a minute there, with the holidays and finals and working and stuff... I am so glad that I was able to work on this and get it up for you guys before the holiday! If you enjoyed it, PLEASE take the time to leave a comment! I want, no I NEED to know what you are thinking!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a battle in Gladsheim. Loki crashes it.

Frost Giants march on Asgard for the first time in 500 years.

It’s a small band of them; a rebel troop consisting of fifteen or so of the dreadful monsters.  Children scream in the streets and run to hide behind their mothers’ legs, and mothers crouch in their houses and bolt the doors as the beasts stomp through the streets.  Where did they come from? Who could have powered a portal powerful enough to bring fifteen of them here, without the means of the Bifrost?

A feeling of dread overpowers Loki.  His fingers tingle with what phantom scraps of Seidr are left from Angrboða’s raping.  Loki knows that she must be behind this invasion; even if his father knew of his being on Asgard, he would never be so stupid as to launch a full out invasion.

He mounts his horse again and gallops after Thor and his warrior friend.  Whether commanded by Angrboða or no, these terrorists will have no choice but to obey the word of Laufey’s son.  The hag witch is still under the command of the crown, and Loki wears Laufey’s heritage lines on his skin. Well… he wears them on his true skin, and he is sure that his kin will recognize him on sight.

He hopes that it will be enough to save Thor and his friends.

Loki arrives at the lower town to the sight of fire and chaos.  His heart pounds in his chest and bile rises in his throat. Asgard-- beautiful, shining Golden Asgard is burning and it is his fault.  He spots Thor across the courtyard, going head to head with the largest Giant in the troop. Loki recognizes him on sight: Ulrik, the son of the army’s general.  Loki frowns. If even he is here, then perhaps it was his father who sent these bandits…

“Stop it!” Loki shouts, and gallops forward on his steed.  Ulrik lifts his head, distracted long enough by Loki’s cry for Thor to swing his hammer and knock out his left knee.  He falls to one leg, but still towers 16 feet over the rest of the Aesir. He snarls and swings his own war hammer, which Thor narrowly dodges.  Loki urges his horse closer. “The Son of Laufey commands you stop at once!”

Ulrik snarls at him, and the Frost Giants nearby laugh in his face.  “Laufey’s Son? Kill this ignorant Aesir,” Ulrik commands. Loki opens his mouth to speak, but a moment later he is swept off his horse and throws to the ground by a massive hand.  He struggles against the grip of another Frost Giant, a lower-ranked warrior named Guðmundur.

“It is the truth!  Look on my face and say you don’t recognize me, Guðmundur.  I am Loki, the youngest son of Laufey and Queen Farbauti, rest her spirit.  I am the third in line to the throne of your country, the slayer of the slave trader Gastropnir and the most powerful Seidrmadr in all of Jotunheim.  I was raised at the palace at Glæsisvellir and have drunk the waters of the Vimur River; if you do not take your hands off of me now you will be slain here today, and your family in Jotunheimr will see no end to their torment in the dungeons of Utgard!”

Guðmundur’s hold on Loki weakens, and he conjures enough power to slip free from the Giant’s calloused fingers.  Guðmundur looks at him in shock, for Loki did not freeze at his touch like a normal Aesir would.

“Kill him!” Ulrik shouts as he continues to duel with Thor.  Loki flashes a look at Guðmundur. 

“Oh yes, would you care to add regicide to the list of charges you’ll be facing when you return to Jotunheimr?”

“You speak with a silvertongue like young Loki’s, but your skin is as pale as the moon.  How do you explain that, runt?” Guðmundur booms, swinging his own war hammer at Loki. Loki hops out of the way just in time, and climbs onto a rock face just out of Guðmundur’s reach.

“I am wearing a glamour, simply, to blend in with the good people here.  The people you are trying to destroy for no good reason, mind you,” he hops out of the way again when Guðmundur swings at him, darting through his long legs.  “And now, a question for a question.”

Guðmundur laughs.  “This is not a game, little runt.  I intend to kill you before any of your questions have been answered.”

“We’ll see,” Loki says, and skids just out of Guðmundur’s reach once again as the fool lumbers around trying to catch him.  Around them, the city continues to burn. Loki must put a stop to this, and fast. If only he had his Seidr, or his own skin back!  “Why have you come here? Did Laufey send you here?”

Guðmundur laughs.  “Old Laufey? He has power over Jotunheimr no more.”

Loki’s heart nearly stops.  “My father…”

“Has been dethroned,” Guðmundur snarls, with a wicked grin.  “We answer to the command of our Queen Angrboða now.” He finally manages to scoop Loki up again.  He squeezes him tight, and Loki feels his bones crunch beneath the Giant’s fingers. He screams, a shrill and pained expression, and squeezes his eyes shut.  “By dusk tomorrow, Laufey’s head will be removed from his shoulders, along with the rest of the royal family. I suppose if you are who you say you are, we are only getting the festivities started early today…”

“No…,” Loki gasps, feeling the last of his air squeeze from his lungs.  Guðmundur hefts his war hammer over his head, poised to crush Loki’s skull.  Then Loki hears a dull thump and an angry cry, and he is falling into the dirt at Guðmundur’s feet, the Giant a bloody heap before him.  His vision is blurred with the pain of his fractured ribs, but he manages to lift his head just in time to see Thor standing above him, bloodied hammer raised.  Loki opens his mouth to try to defend himself, sure that he is about to meet the same bloody end as Guðmundur just had. “Thor, I…,” he just begins, and then the world spins before him, and suddenly everything goes black.


End file.
